When my brother and I were growing up my dad would read to us on the nights he was home. It’s reassuring to think back to that time of my life and realize that I remember so much more of the nights my dad was home than the ones he worked. My father is a very thoughtful and imaginative man. His creativity carried over into his brand of fatherhood. Most nights he would read whatever stories the two of us chose for him to read, my favorite was always “The Fourteen Bears, Summer & Winter.” I know my father read this book a couple thousand times or more and never complained. At least not that I remember. Amazing how children never get tired of their favorite stories. Now that I’m a parent and find myself reading my son’s favorite stories four dozen times, I have to laugh at the passing of the torch. I expect my dad’s way of combating the eternally pleasing ‘same’ stories was by making up his own. He would snuggle up with us in bed and he’d ask us to give him names for the characters or he’d use our names (always a crowd pleaser) and he’d create a story as he went, making up twists and turns in the rambling plots, asking us for clues to what we would want to happen next.
Now that my son is old enough we are doing the same thing. Jake puts his own unique brand of imagination to the tales and we have a grand time. My brother and I used to ask for ‘made-up stories.’ Jake will crawl into bed with me and say “Mommy, tell me a story with your voice.” We pick names; Comfy Monkey is usually a key player, that’s his favorite stuffed animal. He loves any stories with dinosaurs, sharks and monsters. Though, at 3 years old, he always tells me, “They’re good monsters mommy.” “Of course they are Jake”
Last night we had an impressive round of voice stories. Daddy came up and listened too. Jake gets so excited and animated that he usually takes over our stories if he doesn’t like the way my plot is forming. Comfy Monkey was swinging down out of his tree house where he lived with Jake, Jack, David and Nicole (friends from Jake’s school.) He landed near a river and a shark came up on land with a football and asked Comfy if he wanted to play. At this point it gets interesting. Jake decides that we need a bat. So, we change to playing Base-Ba-Football. The shark winds up for a swing, hits the football square on the laces sending it through the goal posts and runs the bases. Rousing from sleep just then, Daddy yawns and re-focuses on the story saying “Hey, those aren’t the rules in football!” It seems Daddy was sleepy and missed the lane change to the new game. That’s the joy of voice stories; there are no hard set rules for anything.
I love that this has become a tradition. It didn't start out that way, I just found myself telling my son stories and realized it is something I'm passing down from my father. Do you have any childhood traditions that you have continued in your present life?
Now that my son is old enough we are doing the same thing. Jake puts his own unique brand of imagination to the tales and we have a grand time. My brother and I used to ask for ‘made-up stories.’ Jake will crawl into bed with me and say “Mommy, tell me a story with your voice.” We pick names; Comfy Monkey is usually a key player, that’s his favorite stuffed animal. He loves any stories with dinosaurs, sharks and monsters. Though, at 3 years old, he always tells me, “They’re good monsters mommy.” “Of course they are Jake”
Last night we had an impressive round of voice stories. Daddy came up and listened too. Jake gets so excited and animated that he usually takes over our stories if he doesn’t like the way my plot is forming. Comfy Monkey was swinging down out of his tree house where he lived with Jake, Jack, David and Nicole (friends from Jake’s school.) He landed near a river and a shark came up on land with a football and asked Comfy if he wanted to play. At this point it gets interesting. Jake decides that we need a bat. So, we change to playing Base-Ba-Football. The shark winds up for a swing, hits the football square on the laces sending it through the goal posts and runs the bases. Rousing from sleep just then, Daddy yawns and re-focuses on the story saying “Hey, those aren’t the rules in football!” It seems Daddy was sleepy and missed the lane change to the new game. That’s the joy of voice stories; there are no hard set rules for anything.
I love that this has become a tradition. It didn't start out that way, I just found myself telling my son stories and realized it is something I'm passing down from my father. Do you have any childhood traditions that you have continued in your present life?
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